


Remote Control

by Evaine



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M, Metallica - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-27
Updated: 2007-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/Evaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another lazy Sunday afternoon. Beer, popcorn and the inevitable discussion...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remote Control

**Title:** Remote Control  
 **Author:** Evaine  
 **Fandom/Characters:** Metallica - Lars/James  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (I so suck at ratings)  
 **Genre:** Slash  
 **Summary:** Another lazy Sunday afternoon. Beer, popcorn and the inevitable discussion...  
 **Disclaimer:** I own only the words; the people own themselves and the events are fictitious.

  
**  
Remote Control   
**   


I flopped down on the sofa and handed James a bottle of beer. Settling the bowl of popcorn between us, I waited for the inevitable discussion to begin. James said nothing, but gave me a sidelong look as he swigged at his beer. I tossed pieces of popcorn into my mouth with one hand and picked up the remote with the other – the TV flared to life.

“Aw, not this shit!” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Who the hell watches bad horror shows twenty-four fucking hours a day.”

“Kirk.” The screen flickered as I hit the channel button. “How about this?”

“It’s a fucking cooking show.” He tried to grab the remote from me, but I held it just out of his reach.

“It’s Iron Chef, man,” I protested. “Extreme cooking, you should like that.” I grinned at him and he lunged for the remote again. “Hey! Careful, you’ll spill the popcorn, man!” I hugged the bowl to my hip with my free hand.

“Stop dickin’ around,” he growled, trying to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. I grinned and thumbed the channel button again.

“Oh, this looks interesting.” I paused on a station, must have been PBS, where British-sounding folk were discussing antiques.

His lip curled. “What’s this pussy crap?” He swigged at his bottle of beer – difficult to accomplish while sneering, but he’s James fucking Hetfield, after all.

“That is one mutherfucking ugly piece of china,” I observed, taking a gulp from my own bottle. He chose that moment to make another grab for the remote and beer spattered over my bare chest. “Fuck!”

“Aha!” James plucked the remote from my hand and grinned victoriously. I tried to swipe off the beer with my hand and give him the finger at the same time. I was successful at neither.

“I suppose we’re gonna watch some kind of stupid farm machine pulling show or something,” I said, making a face.

“Maybe.” He leaned over and began to lick at the beer, making sure to hold the remote as far away as possible. As if the feel of his tongue running along my skin wasn’t enough to distract me. Damned if I’d let him know though, well, he knew, but I wasn’t giving in. I kept munching on my popcorn, knowing he could feel my muscles tensing if he wasn’t too fucking blind to notice the growing bulge in my shorts. He took one final lick around the rim of my belly button and I bit back the groan that threatened to slip out.

“Now.” He straightened and pointed the remote at the TV. I watched the screen flicker through narrowed eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control. How long had it been, and he could still do this to me? Over fifteen fucking years? “Here’s something good.” He grinned and settled back against the sofa. There is no one in this world who could look as fatuously pleased with himself as one James Hetfield.

“It’s a mechanic show for fuck’s sake!” I rolled my eyes as theatrically as I could – and that was some theatrically. “You’re such a fucking grease monkey.” I took a long pull on my beer as I pondered my next step. There was no way I could get at the remote without diving over his body towards the other end of the sofa. Not that it was a bad thing. I eyed the expanse of tanned chest above his raggedy, cut-off jean shorts. Not a bad thing at all. My dick twitched. But it wouldn’t accomplish my goal.

“What are you looking at?” He demanded suspiciously, catching me at my musing. I tossed some popcorn into my mouth.

“Nuthin’.” I let my gaze trail down over his shorts and licked the traces of salt and butter from my lips slowly. _HAH!_ That got a reaction, I noted as he shifted his position slightly. He leaned his bottle of beer against his hip and shoved his hand into the popcorn bowl. I chuckled inwardly, seeing his eyes flash; he was always on me about how my eyes gave me away. His weren’t much better, if you knew when and how to look.

“Shut up and watch then,” he growled, crunching down on the popcorn.

I grinned and pulled on my beer. I could be patient… my moment would come.

“So, what’s that they’re working on?” I asked conversationally, turning towards the screen. Plan B.

“A car.” His answer was dry. Did he think he was funny? Yes, he did, to be honest. It’s one of his more endearing qualities.

“I know it’s a car, fuckwit. What part of it are they working on?” I scratched at my chin. “Is that the manifold or whatever they call it?” What I knew about the insides of a car engine would fill maybe a page of a book. I knew where to put the oil, the windshield washer and maybe where to check for the fanbelt, but that was about it. I hired people to know everything else.

“Lars,’ he sighed. “Those are the fucking brakes. Are you that ignorant?” He glared at me.

“Well, how the fuck do I know? It all looks the same to me. Dirty metal, grease… it all looks the same. Why are they doing that?” I gestured towards the screen. “What’s the oil for and why is it such a weird fucking colour? I didn’t know you put oil in brakes… why don’t people explain these things to me?” On and on I chattered, asking idiot question after idiot question. And the observations I made? Brilliant… positively brilliant. His teeth clenched.

“Oh, fucking hell, enough!” The TV screen flickered again. I grinned. The mechanics were gone. Could I get the remote? No, damn, he was still holding it too far away. Not annoyed or distracted enough yet.

I leaned forward and placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Want another beer?” I got to my feet and stretched. I felt his eyes on me.

“Um... yeah…” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, pleased to note the way he was trying to so casually check me out. He’s so fucking obvious sometimes.

“Gotta wash off my chest too… damned, fucking beer is sticky.” I trailed my fingers across my torso and his eyes widened, just a little bit. I quelled a pleased grin and turned to head back into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. “Leave some of that popcorn, eh?” I wiped my hands slowly across my nylon-clad ass as I walked and finally let the grin loose when I heard a faint grunt. He’d always enjoyed my running shorts.

I returned quickly, two cold beers in my hand, and dropped back down beside him, making sure to sit close enough for my bare leg to touch his. He took one of the bottles from me and continued to flick through the channels nonchalantly, but I could see the rise and fall of his chest. Breathing just a little heavy there, James. I eyed the remote. Not quite yet.

“Now, here’s something.” He grinned and settled himself more comfortably against the back of the sofa, tucking the remote under his thigh.

“Gunsmoke!” I glared at the TV screen and glared at him. “Dear God, James, that’s fucking ancient! You and your fucking cowboys.” I rolled my eyes.

“I like westerns,” he said simply and took a pull on his beer.

“I would never have guessed.” I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess at how many western TV shows and movies I’d sat through over the years, but if I had to, I’d give it a shot at four digits. I raised my beer bottle and laid it against my neck. Despite the air conditioning, it was warm in the room – and my mind was still on the ultimate prize. The remote.

“Just watch.” I could see him glancing at me from the corner of his eye as I rolled the bottle against my neck in an effort to cool off. Yeah, _you_ just watch, James. I took another swig from the bottle and began to roll it across my chest and down lower, over my belly. He licked his lips suddenly and I felt an instant response in my groin. Don’t lose focus, Ulrich.

“Miss Kitty,” I snorted, pretending to be oblivious to the glances he was giving me. “Do you suppose the good marshal calls her Miss Kitty when he’s fuckin’ her brains out?” I chuckled and lowered my voice. “Oh, that’s it Miss Kitty, baby, give it to me. Ooh yeah, that’s it, Miss Kitty… ooh baby. Ride the pony, Miss Kitty.” I did my best Marshal Dillon drawl. He raised an eyebrow and I saw his lips twitch – yeah, Danish cowboys, not something you see every day. “Yeah, baby, just like that….” I let my voice trail off in its normal tone, well… the normal tone I used in the bedroom.

“Idiot,” he mumbled, a faint flush flooding his cheeks. Barely able to ignore the sudden rush of heat through my own body, I glanced at his hands, his fingers curled loosely around his beer bottle as he held it on his midriff.

“Aha!” I dove over him, grabbing for the remote beneath his thigh.

“Dammit!” One of his hands snaked out towards my arm as the other held the bottle up and out of the way. Instead of pushing me back, he took me by surprise and using the momentum of my dive, pulled me across him. The remote was still trapped under his thigh and I could do nothing more in that moment than try and keep my own beer bottle from spilling all over the sofa.

“That didn’t work very well,” I muttered, lying across his lap in what I could only assume was a most undignified position. His elbow rested in the small of my back and I could hear him take a chug from his beer. His other hand was still gripped around my wrist, holding it firmly.

“Squirt, when are you gonna learn?” He chuckled wryly. “You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to get the better of me. And we both know how you love getting up early, so that’s never gonna happen.”

“Bastard,” I grumbled. I still hadn’t learned that unless I had a full head of temper on, I wasn’t about to best him in any physical contest.

“Yup.” I could hear the pleased grin in his voice; I didn’t have to see his face. Smug? The word was invented for him. He settled me a little more comfortably across him, still gripping my wrist. “Now you just lay there nice and quiet while I watch my program, okay?”

“Fuck that!” I began to squirm.

“Hey!” His elbow dug harder into the small of my back and he pulled my other arm down and behind my back, effectively immobilizing me. I could feel the muscles and tendons in my shoulder and upper arm stretch and knew I’d better stop struggling before I damaged something. Drummer can’t drum with a bum arm.

“You gonna be quiet now?” He asked in a low and silky voice, which would have been threatening if it hadn’t been for the underlying sensuality. I suddenly realised that beneath me, he had developed a very serious erection. I rocked my hips slightly, wanting to feel it against my own swelling dick. I let my hand that held my beer drop over the side of the sofa and placed the bottle on the floor.

“No.” I looked over my shoulder at him and gave him the most impudent grin I could muster up. His eyes narrowed, I caught my breath and had the sudden feeling I was playing with matches. A whole fucking book of them.

He reached over me and set his own beer bottle on the table. Our pelvises rubbed together as he moved and I bit back a soft moan. He still held fast to my wrist, keeping my arm bent up behind me. I wasn’t going anywhere and we both knew it.

“You know… Sunday afternoon… just wanna watch some TV… relax…” His free hand moved over my ass slowly and my breath caught in my throat at the instant surge of want that roared through me. “But no… someone has to always make a production out of it.” His voice was soft, almost thoughtful.

His hand stilled.

I swallowed.

 _Smack!_

Hard. Sharp.

It stung.

It turned me on.

I dropped my head to rest my forehead against the sofa, my breath coming in quick gasps.

 _Smack!_

The throbbing from the imprint of his hand matched the throbbing in my dick. I squirmed against him, wanting to feel his cock rubbing hard against mine. His hand moved over my butt cheeks and down to trail across my upper thighs, his palms hot against the bare skin below the hem of my shorts. Big hands, he had. Big powerful hands.

The tension on my shoulder lessened as he eased his grip on my arm. I sighed faintly in relief.

 _Smack!_

My back arched as his hand came down again and this time, I couldn’t keep back the moan. He chuckled seductively. The chuckle I heard so often before he would lower his head to my dick.

“Well now….” I heard the slight breathlessness in his voice, felt him growing even harder beneath me - he was as turned on as I was. His hand slipped up the leg of my shorts, his calloused fingertips trailing lightly over the skin of my still-stinging ass cheek. A delicious shiver ran through me. “This is interesting, isn’t it?” he murmured.

I was growing harder by the second. He released his hold on my arm and I stretched it slowly, making no move to roll off him. Now that it was no longer occupied by holding me in place, his hand crept under the waistband of my shorts and caressed my ass boldly. Good God, the feel of his hand on my skin - skin that I was certain was pink and tender from the slaps - was incredible. Every nerve ending was on fire. My fingers curled as my hands rested up by my head and I waited for him to make his next move.

“Lift up.” I could barely make out the words over the noise of the TV, but hear them I did. I raised my hips and with one hand, he slid my shorts down to my knees, the other hand working at the snap of his jeans. I held myself up for a moment while he got his shorts undone and heard him sigh softly as he released his swollen dick from their confines. He slid a little lower on his spine, then, with a gentle tap, he indicated that I should lower back down.

“Fuck.” The word issued from between my lips in a rush of air as I relaxed across him again and our dicks rubbed together. His fingers trailed lightly over my ass and I moved beneath them, all sensation centered in the area between my belly button and my thighs.

“You’ve got the greatest ass, you know that?” His voice was low, his hand soft as he stroked lightly over my tender skin. I bit back a moan as my toes slid between the far end of the cushion and the side of the sofa. “Watch it all the time.” Can a voice be as erotic as a touch? James’ voice can. My hips began to move in response to that rough, caressing voice.

 _Slap!_

“Oh, God!” Warm tension curled deep in my balls and I squirmed beneath his hands. His hips rose slightly into mine and I groaned. Stubby fingernails scraped along my stinging skin and the pain tumbled over into pleasure with a swiftness that left me light-headed.

“Don’t think I don’t notice you twitchin’ it at me,” he said softly. “Makes me fuckin’ crazy sometimes.” His fingers trailed along my crack, teasingly and I bit my lip. “Gets me so fuckin’ hard I can’t stand up.”

 _Slap!_

His hand came down again and I writhed, my face buried in the sofa, my hands clenched into fists now. I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight. He blew lightly across my ass and I thought I’d fucking die. I began to move my hips against him, straining… searching for relief. His chuckle was warm and pleased as he pressed back, encouraging me.

“Damn… so fuckin’ nice….” His hand ran firmly over my now-bucking ass. Over my ragged, rapid breathing, I could hear his own breaths become more erratic. The sounds of the TV faded far into the background.

 _Slap!_

That sweet sting, the heat, the warmth spreading through me… I was beyond any kind of coherent thought at this point. There was a vicious ache in my balls and I knew nothing more than that I wanted to come so very badly.

His hand left me for a moment to return seconds later, a finger slick with spit sliding between my cheeks. I raised my ass eagerly, groaning as the finger slid inside, my fingers digging into the palms of my hands at the exquisite pleasure.

“Oh… yeah…” he breathed, working that finger in and out with the skill of long practice. His other hand ran over my cheeks, still tingling from his smacks. I thought I would go crazy as I thrust against him. He inserted a second finger and I bucked against him craving release. His fingers scissored within me, then curled. My back arched, my dick grinding frantically against him. His feet slammed down to the floor from the coffee table, his own hips thrusting eagerly against me.

“Ah… there… there, baby… you feel that?” His finger hit my sweet spot and I swallowed back the shout as my feet pushed against the arm of the sofa so hard it cracked.

“Fuck… yesss….” I shuddered to a powerful orgasm, fucking lights flashing behind my eyelids, ringing in my damned ears. I gasped for breath I couldn’t catch, grinding my cock against him as the sticky wetness pooled between us. It seemed to go on forever, until finally, I slumped across his lap. I cracked open my eyes, only to find they weren’t quite ready to focus and shut them again with a small sigh.

“Fuck man… that was some wild.” His chuckle was warm, low and sated and I knew it wasn’t just my fluids that were sticky between us. His hand ghosted over my ass and up along my back, coming to squeeze the back of my neck gently. Big hand… so gentle… so hard. His fingers stroked the side of my cheek and I leaned into them, like a cat nuzzling into a caress.

“Fuckin’ make a production out of everything.” Affection was thick in his voice and I smiled, my fingers curling about the remote.

  
_~fin~_   



End file.
